


My Star

by SydAce



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comfort, Drunk!Crowley, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Reference to the book with his shoes, Star - Freeform, Stars, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 11:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydAce/pseuds/SydAce
Summary: You take care of Crowley while he's drunk.





	My Star

Crowley was drunk. Not just drunk, but drunk. If a regular person were to consume as much alcohol as he did, then they would most likely passed on to his head office to meet his bosses. Lucky for Crowley, he wasn’t a regular person. Unlucky for you, he wasn’t a regular person.

You were stuck getting him somewhere to sleep off his drunk self. He was going around talking about the stars and how he created each and every one of them – well, a lot of them. There were billions and trillions, of course, he didn’t make each and every one of them. But most of them. Probably.

“You know…” Crowley hiccupped. “If I could…You know, if I could, I’d make a whole new star. The prettiest. It’d be your favorite colour. Yessss.” He hissed and grabbed the handle to adjust his seat and went all the way down so he was laying.

“That’s nice, Crowley,” you sighed while driving down the road.

“You think so? You think I’m nice?”

“I know, I know. You don’t like being called nice.”

Crowley frowned and just managed to sit up while flying his arms to get there. “No, but do you think I’m nice? Because that would be okay.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. He grabbed the seat handle again. The seat swung up and smacked him in the back. He groaned in pain and rested his head on the dashboard.

“Crowley, are you okay?” He hummed to affirm he was fine. “Good. We’re here. Let’s get you inside, alright?”

You opened the door and moved to the other side of the car. Once you opened it, he nearly toppled out if it weren’t for you catching him. You grunted as you hoisted him up and led you to your house. You couldn’t remember exactly how to get to his flat, nor did you feel like struggling to get a coherent answer from him.

“Almost there.” You fished out your keys and clumsily moved them to the right one. Once you got it, you quickly unlocked the door and nudged the door open with your foot. “Let’s get you in bed.”

“Sleep sounds nice,” Crowley slurred. He was already leaning his head against your shoulder and his breathing started to slow.

“Not yet!” you gasped out when he put more of his weight on you. “Geeze, you reek of alcohol.”

“Sorry.” Instantly, the smell started to disappear, but you could tell he was still drunk.

“It’s okay.”

One step at a time, you slowly moved your way to your bedroom. Crowley would graze his skin on the wall every now and then. He’d hiss at the small scrapes that formed on his knuckles. Still, the pair of you carried on. Once your bed was near, Crowley flopped onto the bed and put his glasses on the side table.

“Let’s get your shoes off,” you said and lifted his legs onto your bed. Your hands moved towards his feet. Once your fingers grazed his shoes he groaned and jerked his leg away. “Crowley, I need to get your shoes off.”

“I’m not wearing shoes.”

“Yes, you are. I need to get them off.”

“Those are my feet.”

“Your feet are in your shoes.”

“No, my feet are my shoes.”

“What?”

Crowley lifted his head off of your bed and looked at you. “I forgot what feet look like.”

“You forgot what feet look like?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to look it up on the Internet. It gets too weird there. Why did I invent it?”

“Of course you invented it.” You ran a hand through your hair and with a sigh, you moved to leave the room.

“Wait!” Crowley cried. “Please don’t go.”

When you glanced over your shoulder, he looked desperate and almost scared. Taking a deep breath, you went to go sit next to him. He sluggishly moved so his head cheek rested against your lap. His arms wrapped around your waist. The demon’s eyes were already shut. You ran your hands through his hair and watched his chest as his breathing began to slow once more.

"Good night, Crowley. Sweet dreams.”

“G’night, my star.”


End file.
